


Sweet#hart

by VitricHearts



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Bodyswap, Despair Universe, English voice-acting and gameplay, Humour, I apologise for OOCness if I succumb to it, KomaHina probably depending on what people think, Multi, Original motive, Possible Romance, Post-Chapter 1, mindswap, self-deprecation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2711939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VitricHearts/pseuds/VitricHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one who was mentally Hajime reacted first, his teeth clenching in shock— Nagito realised that must be how he looks when he gets frustrated— and grabbed Nagito from the front of the shirt— Hajime’s shirt, but not Hajime’s at the same time—, pulling him forward with a strength the other had no idea he had. </p><p>In truth, Nagito would have laughed at his own pitiful expression and irate tone, but since it was Hajime who was orchestrating them, it really wasn't that amusing at all.</p><p>”What the Hell are you doing in my body?!”</p><p>--</p><p>Title inspired by Closure in Moscow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What's mine is yours

**Author's Note:**

> A short story that I'll attempt to write in a few chapters, inspired by the body-swap prompt. It is post-Chapter 1, but I'm not entirely sure when it's set. Note that it is not pre-written and that I do heed feedback, so comments are helpful and do help build the story. I am considering having aspects of romance to it... There will be slight Sonia/Gundam(/Kazuichi if considered that way), and hints of other stuff, but if there's anything significant, it'll be KomaHina. Do let me know if you think a romantic edge will ruin the story however. Now, without further ado, please enjoy. xx

Art by [blanappleblurp](http://blanappleblurp.deviantart.com/) (DeviantART). Please check out her art! :)

 

 

~~~

 

When he woke up that morning, something was not quite… right.

 

It wasn’t his environment. At least, it was not entirely his environment. As each sense sparked within his conscious, he registered a thin salty ambience- typical of a tropical island’s air- and once again he was able to confirm that he was trapped within the same leisurely hellhole he was in yesterday. _He_ still existed, and it seemed _Jabberwock Island_ still existed, and yet-

 

Something was really not quite right.

 

Eventually he coaxed his tired eyes open, staring dimly ahead of him. He’d been lying on his side, so his first glimpse was of the wall opposite to his bed. He was resting inside a cottage, it seemed. Nothing unusual about that; he’d fallen asleep in one yesterday too. What was weird, however, was that the place looked… different. Changed around, furniture-wise. Had it been renovated while he slept?

 

No one had mentioned any new room decors though...

 

He surveyed the place without moving, too lethargic to begin worrying. It’s possible he hadn’t properly recollected his memories just yet. From what he could see, his coffee table had been shifted. He had a new rug— although honestly, it wasn’t very much to his tastes. Neither were the new curtains; he much preferred the old wooden blinds. The shelf upon which he kept his collectives was also gone, he realised. There was a bookshelf there now, and… A fridge?

 

“…I don’t need a fridge.”

 

.....What.

 

He grew still, before—

 

“WHAT?”

 

In the panic of a moment, he shot straight up, eyes wide, his sheets pooling around him. White, fluffy bangs tumbled over his forehead, his limbs felt awkward, utterly _weird_ , and his hands, his pale, pale hands—

 

“WHAT?!”

 

He yelled, more loudly, in a tone foreign and entirely unbefitting to his own. He looked up from trembling slender hands to gaze at what was very much not his cabin, then back at his hands, or rather _not_ his hands, and then in a swift movement, he removed the sheets, and those _weren’t his legs_ , _not_ his jeans, _not_ his _anything_ , and his—or rather _not_ his— hand moved up and ran through hair much longer than his own, and it was longish and fluffy and achromatic but auburn at the tips and-

 

“WHAT HAPPENED TO MY BODY?!”

 

He scrambled out of bed at his own shout and shock, and nearly stumbled at the utter awkwardness of his limbs. He felt fragile, all over the place— his body was lanky, alien, and he _never_ felt this _thin_. He stared down at his clothes, slightly wrinkled, and recognized whom they usually belonged to with utter disbelief and fear.

 

“:Ha… hahaha… haa…”

 

He reached up to gingerly touch an unfamiliar throat. His voice was –

 

Its quality was—

 

“Ahh… No.”

 

He smiled into the reflection of the nearest window pane, rueful.

 

“No.”

 

This was not happening.

 

“I am _not_ Nagito Komaeda.”

 

 

~~

 

His experience wasn’t too dissimilar. He woke up in pretty much the same state, knowing his situation and yet understanding that there were _differences_. He was slightly more physically aware, however, discerning several things before having even opened his eyes. He noted how his scent had changed, how unusually fleshy he felt, how his abdominal muscles were more taught than he would’ve thought and how his shirt was gathered around his shoulders more closely than usual. His neck was bare too, prickly and cold.

 

He felt out of his skin.

 

He opened his eyes, to perhaps source this unusual sensation, to find it right before his eyes. He immediately noticed how his arm, resting adjacent to his face, was much darker than it normally would be, and he stared at it, features blank, before decidedly sitting himself up.

 

The sheets loosened from his torso and he gazed upon his chest, clad in a button-up shirt that he did not own. He noticed how his forehead felt bare and ran a hand, smaller but more solid, through choppy brown locks that he knew were brown because they only _just_ framed his vision. He silently held his arms out before him, once more, to verify the situation, before stating in a blasé tone:

 

“Hmm, this is an unusual dream.”

 

He paused, surprised, and frowned, reaching up to finger his neck.

 

“…even my voice…?”

 

And then he slowly grinned at himself, incredulous, but his smile did not feel like his own.

 

He swung himself around, his feet on the ground, and admired the ease and strength with which he did so. He felt invigorated, although he felt somewhat… out of place, because he knew he wasn’t quite himself. Then he peered around in silence, observing his surroundings for the first time, and was surprised to discover that this really wasn’t his cottage, but rather, it was actually _that student’s_ cottage. He could hardly believe it.

 

“You’re kidding me, right…”

 

He ran a hand through the back of his hair, cropped abnormally short, and almost marvelled at the feel of his body and the dynamics of his voice because these were features he had always liked and always had high regard for, except…

 

Back then they hadn’t been his own.

 

He stood, shakily, and took a few steps towards the window to adapt. The day was already clear, although the morning announcement hadn’t been made yet. He frowned at the view, notably different, and looked at his hands again. They glowed healthily in the daybreak, and that scared him.

 

 “Does this mean,” he mused to himself, expression no longer quite so gratified, “that Hajime is trapped within my trashy body?”

 

He stood in silence for a while, ruminating worriedly over the implications involved with the latter assumption. Only he…

 

Only _he_ deserved to be confined to such an atrocious vessel. Hajime must be absolutely _suffering_ to be condemned to such a hopeless fate…! Not only so, but—

 

“I— ”

 

His words, his actions, his mind, unsuited to Hajime, undeserving of Hajime’s energy. He was tainting Hajime by merely being within him. And if his luck carried over—

 

And if his _luck_ carried _over_ —!

 

He wasted no time, turning on his heel with newfound distress, and reached for his parka- It was not there, of course, and he faltered a moment before darting for the door and escaping into the morning light.

 

The moment he left the cabin, he heard a shriek— _his_ voice, it was _his_ rotten voice, but it did not come from him— and his heart clenched as he stared at the portrait on Hajime’s door before booking it down the wooden walkway.

 

He ran over to what was normally his room, his footsteps loud and unnaturally condensed, and skidded in front of the cabin’s entrance. Breathing heavily, he raised a hand without gathering himself, but the door was flung open just at that moment.

 

He really was not mentally prepared for what he saw.

 

He stared at himself, slight and pale and surprised, and for a moment he was rendered speechless. Neither of them was able to say anything, just staring their skins and their situations in the face. It was almost unsettling to accept what had happened, but in seeing it all before them, it became personal, real and extremely intimidating.

 

The one who was mentally Hajime reacted first, his teeth clenching in shock— Nagito realised that must be how he looks when he gets frustrated— and grabbed Nagito from the front of the shirt— Hajime’s shirt, but not Hajime’s at the same time—, pulling him forward with a strength the other had no idea he had.

 

In truth, Nagito would have laughed at his own pitiful expression and irate tone, but since it was Hajime who was orchestrating them, it really wasn’t that amusing at all.

 

”What the _Hell_ are you doing in _my_ body?!”


	2. Actions speak louder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this has gotten better feedback than I thought, and yet I'd only posted a chapter. Glad to see people enjoying this. Well, here's the second instalment and I hope you guys have vivid imaginations because the entirety of this story will be very amusing to you if you do.  
> On a final note, to avoid confusion, when I mention a character I am usually referring to the person who is mentally possessing another character. So if I say, Hajime, I am talking about Hajime in Nagito's body. However, there are times I refer to the person's body by the name of the original owner, but this should be obvious if the sentences are interpreted correctly. Sorry if this story turns out confusing; it tends to happen, with such a plot.  
> Now then, if you please, enjoy. xx

Nagito never quite appreciated himself. Not his character, not his life, not his appearance. His appearance was probably lower down on the list of things he detested about himself, but it was still a rather discomfiting thing to be familiar with. It was for this reason that he entirely understood why Hajime was acting hysterically— because who _wouldn’t_ feel so utterly hopeless whilst confined in a body as pitiful as Nagito Komaeda’s— and this did create a sense of urgency within him, that he needed to be back in his body before anymore harm was done, but…

 

It really wasn’t quite so pleasant to be assaulted by a body you hate so much either.

 

Nagito grimaced, grabbing what used to be his hands and prying them away from the front of his shirt. They were cold and stiff and he wondered if he always looked this lifeless.

 

“Hey. Hajime.”

 

Said boy flinched, seemingly shocked at the sound of his voice...

 

Scratch that— he _was_ shocked at the sound of his voice, as shocked as Nagito was to see his own face wear an expression of shock, although that expression of shock was really quite no longer his and…

 

Nagito had to take a deep breath and recollect himself before he spoke again.

 

“Listen… you need to calm down. Take a deep breath, and—”

 

“ _Calm down_? You seriously— _again_ , you’re telling me to _calm down_?”

 

Did Nagito really sound like that when he was angry? Was he _ever_ even that angry?

 

This was simply unreal.

 

Hajime wrenched away from what used to be his grip (but was now Nagito’s), staring down at his pallid hands with an unbelieving expression that, although his face was no longer the same, was recognized as being specifically Hajime’s. How paradoxical.

 

Nagito didn’t know what to say, still unused to the abnormalities in their voices and expressions. When Hajime looked up at him again, Nagito was lost, because how could he settle with the fact that that face was his, but no longer his? That was _his_ hair, that he personally refused to tame, and _his_ shirt, for which he chose the design so decisively, and those were _his_ eyebrows that Hajime was quirking, and _his_ lips parted worriedly, although he was not the one who parted them, and—

 

“Look…” He breathed. He felt bad that he sounded like Hajime, and Hajime probably hated it too. “I’m not sure how this has happened, and it’s clear that neither of us is happy with it, but since we know of no immediate solution, we need to remain calm.”

 

He folded his arms, making an expression that said something along the lines of, ‘Don’t you agree?’, but he was sure it didn’t come out right on Hajime’s face like it would his own.

 

“This is probably Monobear’s work… Another one of his motives, if I’m correct.”

 

“Hah, it wouldn’t surprise me…”

 

Nagito smiled pitifully at Hajime’s irritated tone and comment; none of their expressions formed accordingly. It was both frustrating and saddening, how their characters had been robbed of them. Nagito sighed and continued.

 

“This can turn out to be very problematic. It’s better to discuss all the details later. Right now, what we should do is to meet up with everyone else. The others might have been affected too. If so, then—”

 

“What the Hell are you idiots doing out here so early? You’re really goddamn loud.”

 

Surprised by the interruption, both students turned their heads in vector of Fuyuhiko, whom stood across the walkway with his arms crossed and his mouth curled in irritation. Glancing over the two over suspiciously, he waited for a response that, out of uncertainty, did not come. This just irritated him further.

 

“ _Now_ you’re fuckin’ silent?”

 

He strode closer, and Hajime opened his mouth to offer some sort of argument, but his attempt only rendered him a target. Fuyuhiko turned his eyes coldly on Nagito— or rather, Hajime’s new body.

 

“It was _you_ who was shouting earlier, wasn’t it? The fuck has gotten into you, Nagito? I know you have _problems_ but—”

 

“I—I’m not Nagito…”

 

“—that doesn’t give you permission to yell your head off and wake up everyone else on this godforsaken island…”

 

Fuyuhiko halted then, slowly registering the previous claim, hesitant and wavering. His eyebrows slanted as he turned his head, muttering a bitter,

 

“ _Excuse me_?”

 

Hajime put up his pale hands in defence, expression twisting unusually.

 

“Well, I woke up this morning and—”

 

“I wasn’t sure how much to believe, but you really are fucking insane. Hajime, what are you even doing with this bastard?”

 

Nagito tilted his head, seeing Fuyuhiko had looked to him instead. He tried to keep from smiling, unworriedly, but he couldn’t help it and it must have looked off-putting on Hajime’s face.

 

“Ah, I’m not Hajime.”

 

Fuyuhiko’s eyebrows raised. Nagito continued, motioning between two victims.

 

“He’s in fact telling the truth. It seems we’ve switched bodies. We’re not sure how, but…”

 

Fuyuhiko held up a hand, forcing Nagito to trail off. When he spoke, it was dangerously quiet and accusatory.

 

“Both of you— You’re _both_ off the fucking deep end. You expect me to _believe_ this bullshit?”

 

Nagito shrugged; the gesture settled awkwardly in Hajime’s shirt.

 

“We’re not forcing you to believe anything. Although judging by your reaction, it seems _you_ haven’t been switched with anyone. How interesting…”  
  
Fuyuhiko stared, unbelieving, but was decidedly ignored when the figure who looked like Nagito (who in fact claimed he was Hajime) turned towards the other.

 

“Do you reckon we’re the only ones who have been affected then? In that case, it seems unlikely if this is one of Monokuma’s incentives. It’s too specific and unusual for that…”

 

“Well, we’ve hardly seen the others yet, so it’s unreasonable to make that assumption. Rather, we should gather everyone and perhaps only then we can…”

 

“Hey, wait a second.”

 

Words faded into silence, markedly patient. Fuyuhiko began slowly, shoulders squared.

 

“You guys aren’t really being serious, right? You haven’t _actually_ swapped bodies, right…?”

 

Hajime’s pale ochre eyes wandered over to Fuyuhiko in a manner suited to Nagito Komaeda.

 

“You think we’re lying about this?”

 

“Ah, yes? I mean, have you _listened_ to yourselves? What you’re saying is impossible, and yet…”

 

He looked the new Nagito Komaeda over uncertainly.

 

“You’re talking a lot like Nagito, and he’s…”

 

He held Hajime’s serious gaze, obscured by long, white bangs. Said person confirmed his thoughts in a firm tone.

 

“And I’m Hajime Hinata. Look, I know what we’re claiming is absurd, and honestly we’re just as disoriented, but you’re seriously going to have to trust us for now.”

 

Fuyuhiko scratched at the back of his neck, finding it hard to come to terms with these claims, let alone to put trust in these two individuals who he admittedly did not trust. He sighed, brashly, and it sounded like a growl.

 

“I swear, if this all turns out to be a hoax, I’m going to murder you guys. I can hardly accept this as it is. For all I know, you guys could be cooperating as a way of confusing us all. Heck, and if _that_ turns out to be true—”

 

In a split second, Fuyuhiko’s threat was stopped abruptly short.

 

“AAAAAAAHHHHH!”

 

A single, shrill scream suddenly ripped through the air, and the group of three jolted. Fuyuhiko spun around in disbelief— he recognised that tone, so awfully familiar to him, and yet—

 

Nagito ran his hand through his cropped, brown hair, his expression jaded.

 

“Do you _still_ think we’re lying?”

 

The blond wouldn’t hear it.

 

“Shut up and let’s go!”

 

The three sprinted from Nagito’s designated cottage towards the half of the cabins that were inhabited by the females, where the scream seemed to have originated. They were quick enough to notice the door of a cottage flung open, and a silver-haired female dash out in absolute distress. She was babbling at such a rate that it was difficult to discern what she was nattering, but as she flitted gracelessly around the place, her piercing screams were better interpreted.

 

“OHHH _NO_!! THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG! THERE’S SOMETHING _WRONG_!!! OH NO, OH NO, OH NO, _OH NO_! THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG, SO VERY, VERY _WRONG_!! IBUKI HAS CHANGED! IBUKI HAS _CHANGED_!!!”

 

Hinata’s footsteps faltered in alarm of what he was witnessing.

 

“Uh, is that Ibuki… in Peko’s body?”

 

The face he once possessed turned to grimace back at him.

 

“It seems like it. We should probably restrain her before she does something she’ll regret. If she’s this hysterical, she’ll end up hurting herself and Peko’s body along with her. Hey, Fuyuhiko, are you listening…?”

 

It seemed not, because the Yakuza prodigy did not answer, but merely stared at the wailing Peko/Ibuki with an expression and posture both fearful and disbelieving.

“P-Peko…” was all he managed before the rest of the island was shortly aroused by Ibuki’s yells, screams of distaste springing up in other cottages, male and female alike. The three boys stood bewildered as students emerged from their cabins, some confused, others frenzied, Peko’s body running wildly between them, and in an instant, a cacophony of speech began.

 

“Wha- What’s going on out here?!”

 

“WHAAAT? WHHHHAAAAAT??! WHY AM I _HIM_?!”

 

“What in the world??!”

 

“I- I can not believe this! This is unimaginable! Atrocious! I had never conceived to be _morphed_ into as horrid a being as _this_ —”

 

“IBUKI HAS CHANGED! IBUKI HAS _CHANGED_!!”

 

“HEEYYY! YOOOU!! YOU HAVE MY BODY!!”

 

“Ahhh… Ahhhhhhh… AHHHHH!”

 

“Someone, _explain_!! Wh- _What_ is going _on_??”

 

“WAAAAAAAHH! I’ve become— I’VE BECOME THAT NASTY _PIG_!!”

 

‘What are you guys even yelling about? It’s too early to be fighting. …Damn, I’m hungry too.”

 

Hajime flinched, unsure of what to do in being so suddenly surrounded by utter chaos and despair. The resolution was obviously to stop everyone in their tracks, to yell at them to be silent for one precious moment and to work together as a team, but…

 

He doubted Nagito’s body was even capable of screaming loud enough to gather attention. Not only so, but people hardly listen to him as it is, let alone who they undoubtedly would think was the impossible Nagito Komaeda if he _dared_ begin talking—

 

“ _EVERYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE_!! _SHUUUUUUUT_ _UUUUUUUUP_!”

 

The air tremored and the ground rumbled under the immense strain of the Ultimate Coach’s erupting shout; a miraculous phenomenon that hovered over the hotel area for more than a few moments. Unsurprisingly, all the students halted in their plight, heads turning towards Nekomaru in a silent, obedient awareness. Even Ibuki, sporting Peko’s face in a state of frozen horror, was rendered stationary.

 

Hajime, on the other hand, was left reeling and wincing. Nekomaru had been right behind him, far too close for comfort, and Nagito’s ears really seemed to not like the audible pressure. Not a few metres ahead of him, his old body withstood the call, and Hajime almost felt jealous of Nagito for a moment. It was a stupid thought, but hopelessly true, _especially_ when it seemed that Nagito began speaking for him.

 

“Now that everyone’s listening, let’s be straight forward with this, alright? Some of you may have just realised that, for some reason, a few of us have had our bodies switched over.”

 

There was an anticipated chorus, serious and sarcastic, of whining and gasps and cynical laughter, but eventually it dwindled until Nagito could be heard again.

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if this is Monobear’s doing, but since he hasn’t showed up yet, we should use this time to figure out who’s been affected and what exactly we’re going to do.”

 

Silence followed— as though Nagito was allowing time for anyone to show dissent— and Chiaki took the opportunity to step forward, a finger pointed with a thoughtful expression.

 

“I understand what you said, but I still have a question.”

 

Her head tilted curiously.

 

“You aren’t Hajime, are you?”

 

Nagito merely crossed his arms, expression unnaturally even when he responded without fret.

 

“No, I’m not. I’m Nagito Komaeda.”

 

A murmur of bewilderment shimmied across the group, heads turning in shock and jaws dropping in surprise. Sonia raised a hand, shakily, before inquiring.

 

“Pardon me, but then… does that mean—”

 

“Yeah, I’m here.”

 

Having recovered his hearing, Hajime stepped beside Nagito, khaki parka fluttering about his legs. He continued speaking before the others could interject with their surprise.

 

“And yes, I know. We may sound the same as we look, but believe me, we are not who you think we are. A few of you are like this too, it seems.”

 

Heads were nodded and muttered comments were made, and people glanced desperately around at each other in a movement that Hajime found unnerving and hard to ignore.

 

“Alright then. So to make this easier, if the affected people would come to the centre of the walkway.....”

 

Hajime trailed off, tone awfully expectant, and slowly, urged by the abnormality of their situations and with fearful understanding, the group shifted and came to life.

 

In a scattering of movement and with expressions accordingly bemused, Gundam, Mikan, Kazuichi, Ibuki, Hiyoko and a teetering Peko stepped forward.


	3. If you were in my shoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much feedback! Thank you very much for responding to my story!  
> This chapter intends to introduce the other victims of the bodyswap motive. In truth, there was a lot more I wanted to do in introducing them, but I kept it simple and will bring up other quirks later on in the story.  
> Thanks for waiting and please enjoy! xx

An apprehensive fear settled over Hajime as said affected students produced themselves.

 

“What…? This many…?”

 

The group gathered before Hajime was actually pretty reasonable— the possibility of Monobear switching the entire group was far too scary to reckon with— but these people were irate and too unsettled to be discounted as nothing worrying. All the others could do was watch dazedly as the unfortunate victims collectively came to terms with what had just happened, and _that_ there was an event that did not go too smoothly.

 

“I-I can’t believe this!”

 

The person who looked like Gundam Tanaka began by shouting very uncharacteristically, legitimate tears coming to his eyes as he brandished his limbs and tugged at his scarf as though it was suffocating him.

 

“This— It can’t be real, right? This is a dream, right? Someone pinch me so I can wake up already!”

 

Hajime hesitated a moment before drawing a conclusion, his tone unsure.

 

“Uh, Kazuichi…?”

 

“Yeah, who else?! Aw man, this is awkward! And- …And I sound so… _strange_.”

 

It was true; most awkward was what the switch had done to his voice, for his speech really did not correspond to his tone. Gundam’s voice was naturally deep, arcane with dark undertones, but Kazuichi’s personality was far too jaunty to suit it. It created an awful, cringe-worthy mix.

 

Gaze flickering, Kazuichi’s new voice grated as he thrusted an accusatory finger towards an individual within the group.

 

“I don’t want to be _you_ , and I don’t want you to be _me_!! No one here can be me but _me_ anyway! So give back my body already!”

 

The recipient of this frenzied talk, standing silently towards the back of the group, had his eyes closed— as if conserving himself— and his arms crossed so tautly his posture alone was scary. Upon being addressed, he looked up at Kazuichi, whom was immediately taken aback by the broiling, vivid pink eyes that were tauntingly no longer his own, and then…

 

“Listen _here_ , mortal.”

 

At the muttering of a few words, Kazuichi’s jaw dropped into the folds of his scarf, astounded.

 

“Wha…”

 

“Do you suppose I _enjoy_ being trapped within this preposterous vessel of yours? I have far more bitter a resentment concerning your inhabiting my own body as well; a resentment you can not even begin to fathom!”

 

Kazuichi had never used a tone so profound before, and to witness his body speaking in the guise of a cultist?

 

 _It did not fit at all_.

 

The figure that was now Gundam Tanaka stalked forward, the way he sported Kazuichi’s appearance near brutal.

 

“You do not understand the implications of this switch at all. Your hubris is not the only thing that is at stake. Look—"

 

Lips pressed tightly, Gundam rose a hand and pointed towards the other’s shoulder. Kazuichi directed his attention and instantly yelped, almost swatting the hamster perched languidly there before he remembered Gundam was _right there_. Gundam lowered his hand, a weird sort of dejection seeping into his expression.

 

“The Four Dark Devas of Destruction are bound to my old vessel by powerful and ancient black magic. Whilst I am trapped in this _foreign_ , _pathetic_ life form,’ –Kazuichi scowled— ‘they are ultimately blind to the identity of their true master. Even if I bid them to, they will not join me…”

 

Kazuichi hesitated, jolting when he felt a rustling along the back of his neck. One hamster nibbled affectionately on his earlobe, and only then did it truly hit home.

 

“Wait, I— Are you telling me that _I_ have to look after your hamsters because they don’t like you while you’re in my body?!”

 

Gundam, his expression blatantly upset with the situation, gave a brief nod. This was impossible to Kazuichi’s heterochromic eyes.

 

“But I _can’t_! I don’t know anything about hamsters! Heck, I don’t even _like_ them!”

 

“Exactly! You know nothing of how to satiate their needs, and nor do you harbour any bond with them! Have you finally recognised your inferiority? Under your unsteady hand, my precious minions will crumble!!”

 

“Excuse me… Gundam?”

 

Gundam only noticed how tense this awkward body of his was when another voice removed him from the argument. Regulating his breathing, he ungritted his razor-sharp teeth and averted his gaze to the side; Sonia looked worriedly up at him, unsure and by no doubt confused. Her words were polite and careful.

 

“Ah… Just to be sure! …I _am_ talking to Gundam, correct?”

 

On instinct, he rose a hand to hide his lower face within his scarf, but his fingers toyed nervously with the zipper of a jumpsuit instead.

 

“That is me.”

 

She smiled softly, as though in reassurance, before leaning forward with sudden vigour and grasping the sleeve of his arm. Kazuichi gaped at this; Sonia had never made contact with his body before! Although, technically it was not his body anymore— _but_ when he got back into it, it would be!

 

“Gundam,” she began strongly, “Please listen to what I have to say. I understand how much worry you must feel for the Dark Devas in a situation like this. It saddens me to see you in such distress, and so that is why I insist that I help you!”

 

She nodded deftly, and he blinked at her.

 

“And… how exactly do you endeavour to do that…?”

 

“Ah, well, I will never be as efficient a caretaker as you” – Gundam’s resultant blush turned out just fine on Kazuichi’s face – “but I have learned enough from our previous conversations to note what it is that your hamsters require. They seem to trust me somewhat, so please allow me to assist Kazuichi in looking after them whilst these circumstances hold!”

 

Taken aback, he shrunk a little and crossed his arms, inadvertently feeling flattered at Sonia’s request. It was no secret that she was the only other individual on the island whom openly expressed some sort of affection towards his pets, and he was admittedly grateful for that. His hamsters did indeed trust in Sonia’s gentle touch, and he found himself unable to refuse her offer.

 

“I… am in no condition to complain. Do as you wish.”

 

Sonia perked up, delighted.

 

“I will not disappoint you, Gundam! I will make sure the Four Dark Devas are always at their healthiest. And if Kazuichi neglects them, I wish ensure that he is reprimanded accordingly!”

 

“Hey, what—“

 

“T-That is fine. Thank you.”

 

She smiled, kindly.

 

“It is my absolute pleasure! Do not worry, Gundam. I’m sure things will be returned to how they were soon!”

 

Having restored some sense of normality to the situation by dint of Sonia’s positivity, the three immersed in conversation concerning the wellbeing of the hamsters. Hajime watched, both relieved and a little wondrous at how well that had worked out. He was sure there were still other problems to sort— having conveniently avoided the issue concerning their outrageously different bodies— but they at least they were working together and that was uplifting.

 

“Hajime.”

 

He turned sharply at the call of his name, and came nose-to-nose with his own face.

 

“Wha—”

 

It was undoubtedly a shock to him— he stumbled backwards, almost tripping over the tough soles of Nagito’s boots— and if it weren’t for his— or rather Nagito’s— quick reflexes, he wouldn’t have regained his balance. Nagito held on to Hajime’s arm for a while, steadying him, before reassured that he was fine.

 

“Still not used to it?” the brunet asked concernedly, and Hajime pretended not to care for the sympathy that laced Nagito’s tone.

 

“I guess not. Did you need me?”

 

“I was going to ask if you’d be willing to help calm Hiyoko. She’s not exactly the most complacent person in this situation...”

 

Hajime allowed his gaze to wander across the group, a little reluctantly, until almost immediately he found the brightly attired girl cowering amongst the others with tears pricking her eyes.  She looked upset, that was true, but she wasn't exactly fighting back as rowdily as he would have thought. In fact, with someone of her character, it was as though she actually _was_ being complacent.

 

Then what was Nagito talking about…?

 

“She… doesn’t seem to be taking it too hard. Why are you so worried about her?”

 

Nagito sighed, ever-patient.

 

“Hajime, you’re looking at the wrong Hiyoko.”

 

Hajime continued staring.

 

“Look at Mikan. Hiyoko switched with Mikan.”

 

As quickly as he was redirected, his gaze relocated and he understood what was being said. His eyes and mouth widened accordingly.

 

“Ohh… Yeah _,_ I get it now.”

 

So _this_ is what Komaeda was worried about.

 

Mikan— or rather, Hiyoko— was gripping furiously at her hair, tugging angrily at the long dark tendrils with such a ferocity that Hajime had to remind himself that this wasn’t Mikan he was looking at, but rather Hiyoko, whom was in fact prone to tantrums and—

 

“ _You stupid pig_! Give me my body back _NOW_!”

 

That was not an expression he’d ever seen Mikan make nor words he’d ever thought he’d see her utter. Somehow, despite how unusual it was, it worked on Mikan’s face.

 

How frightening.

 

As Hajime moved closer, he noted where Nekomaru was positioned, just in front of Hiyoko as though ready to restrain her in case she attacked anyone. Then Hajime looked over to Hiyoko’s old body, trembling behind Akane’s legs, and immediately understood whom all this unnecessary anger was being directed to.

 

“I-I-I-I-I-I can’t! I don’t k-know how!”

 

Even when transferred to another body, Mikan had not lost her stutter and the childish voice she possessed quivered uncertainly as though it were her own. Scared amber eyes peeked out from behind Akane’s hips, and Hajime couldn’t help but feel as though this was a character that was properly suited to the Lolita genre.

 

Hiyoko, on the other hand…

 

“I don’t _care_ , you ugly boar! – ‘That’s a little hypocritical,’ Hajime thought – You’re dumb and I don’t want to be you! I want my old body back! _Waaaah_!”

 

With that, Hiyoko proceeded to throw her bandaged arms to her sides and tossed her head back, emitting a dull scream. Hajime decided this would be a good time to intervene.

 

“Listen, Hiyoko,” Hajime began, advancing cautiously. “Maybe you should—“

 

“No! I don’t want to talk to you, _you_ _psychotic bastard with two-zippered shoes_!”

 

Hajime shrunk back as though kicked in the teeth. “H-Hey! I’m not—! These aren't-!”

 

“Is my fashion sense really so despicable…?”

 

Hajime paused, turning and giving his old body an exasperated look. Nagito didn’t seem to get the message.

 

“Oh, I’m really sorry for subjecting you to my awful taste in clothing, Hajime. We can swap shoes if you like?”

 

“T-That isn’t the point!”

 

He pivoted away from Nagito, looking Hiyoko in the eye. The usual tears had collected along her lashes, but her eyes were an angry, bitter grey.

 

“Hiyoko, I know you’re upset about this— believe me, I am too— but beating Mikan up over it won’t solve anything. It’s better if you calm down, and then we can—”

 

“ _Bwaaah_ , but why _herrrr_? I hate her! Why did it have to be her?! _Aaaaaaahh_ …!”

 

“Hey! Hiyoko!”

 

Hajime looked surprisedly over his shoulder when the Ultimate Photographer walked forward, her hands firmly upon her hips and her expression unamused. Hiyoko’s eccentric cries slowly dwindled into loud sobs and sniffles when she noted Mahiru’s presence. Hiyoko gave one long, pitiful look before she launched herself, crying, into the redhead’s arms.

 

Mahiru was slightly taken aback— Hiyoko was suddenly as tall as herself and quite a bit more curvy— but eventually she conformed to the action and lightly hugged the bewildered girl back. The others watched with a mixture of resignation and relief, Nekomaru reaching forward to pat Mahiru gratefully on the shoulder— the one that wasn’t wet with Hiyoko’s snot— before the girl in distress began whining again.

 

“M-Mahiru! Mahiru, it’s so unfair! I don’t want this! I want my old body back! I-I won’t be able to dance any more! I—”

 

“Shhh, hey, you need to calm down, alright? It’ll be okay. Calm down and listen…”

 

Mahiru spoke gently to Hiyoko, petting her shoulders lightly and overall generating success in calming her down. Hajime sighed, appreciative that this one burden had been shifted, before remembering…

 

“Ah, Mikan…?”

 

He peered around for the other victim and found her frightened, tears ever-present but a little more collected now. She gazed up at him, and it was hard to believe it was actually Mikan he was looking at, but that was the reality.

 

“I-I-I’m sorry…” she mumbled, and by habit pulled her arms inwards towards her chest, “I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble! I-I couldn’t help it, really…”

 

“No, it’s fine; it’s not your fault.” Hajime reassured her, and she nodded meekly. He wondered if he should tell her that the Lolita appearance suited her, perhaps as a way of cheering her up, but decided it might only offend her instead.

 

“Hopefully we’ll get this sorted soon, and you’ll be back to your normal self in no time. So don’t worry too much, okay?”

 

Mikan looked up at him and nodded again, slowly.

 

“T-Thank you… Hajime.”

 

The corners of her mouth turned up, unconfident, but he was sure to smile back at her consideration.

 

“Hey, no problem.”

 

Nagito had been observing this all for a while, impressed by how the Ultimates had so far handled the situation, but his attention was inadvertently drawn toward the final pair of victims, and the most hopeless of all…

 

“ _Hajime, help_!!”

 

Nagito jolted in shock when a familiar blur of silver and black shot up towards him, small but strong hands grasping his shoulders and shaking him roughly. It took some self-restraint and a personal reminder that she was an Ultimate, and thus an embodiment of Hope, to keep Nagito from retaliating against the invasion of his personal space. He raised his hands in silent request.

 

“You’re mistaken, Ibuki. I’m not Hajime. I’m Nagito.”

 

Peko’s face crumbled in sudden disappointment and even greater confusion. She threw her head back and wailed in a manner a little more than discomfiting.

 

“Ibuki doesn’t know what’s happening anymore! Ibuki’s life is a lie! It’s all a _lie_!!”

 

She continued to cry, her forehead coming down to rest despondently on his shoulder. What she did to Peko’s sombre image made it seem like a joke. Nagito fidgeted, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the situation.

 

“Uh, um, I don’t think—”

 

But she had already pulled away, shivering. The actual Hajime approached then, looking between them confusedly.

 

“Was I called for again? Are… you alright, Ibuki?”

 

She turned on Hajime, her eyes glaringly red.

 

“Ibuki doesn’t know you!”

 

“But… I’m Hajime. Hajime Hinata. Nagito and I were switched, remember?”

 

“Liar! Liar! Ibuki will hear no more of these lies!”

 

Ibuki clamped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, turning away.

 

Nagito merely sighed, rubbing his shoulder achingly. “She’s gone into denial, it seems.”

 

Hajime looked worriedly over her swaying form, blissfully ignorant. “What do we do to persuade her?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s better if she figures this out on her own. Eventually she'll realise that this isn’t a dream. More importantly, how is the actual Peko doing?”

 

“Oh, Peko. She…”

 

Hajime looked away, scanning the group for the punk chick whom was usually donned in blue, pink and white. He found her to the side, conversing quietly with Fuyuhiko. Hajime wandered closer, leaving Nagito behind to better hear into their conversation.

 

“It isn’t the same, is it? Is it really bad?”

 

“It’s not bad…” Hajime had never seen so serious an expression on Ibuki’s face. “But unfortunately, I’ll be unable to fight while I am like this. Her body isn’t groomed for swordwork. I may even hurt her if I attempt to train whilst like this.”

 

“Then don’t train. It’s fine to refrain from sparring for now. But more importantly… are _you_ okay?”

 

“I’m fine. …Is there something you need, Hajime?”

 

Hajime shuddered a bit at being called out — he hadn’t really intended to eavesdrop, in truth — but under Fuyuhiko’s newly piercing stare, he announced himself quickly.

 

“Ah, yeah… I just was wondering how you were taking the switch, Peko. It’s quite the change, isn’t it?”

 

“It is,” she agreed, complacently. She lifted the edge of her skirt as though examining it, then crossed her arms with a slight shrug. It wasn’t a very suiting to Ibuki’s appearance, but Hajime felt that he wouldn’t see this face smile freely or spurt happy nonsense for a while.

 

“It’s fine though. I was shocked at first, but I’m getting used to it. Ibuki is not very happy, I take it?”

 

“Uh… She’s just... not quite sure what to believe, I think.”

 

Fuyuhiko crossed his arms, gaze shifting to the side. Chiaki had taken to Ibuki, speaking something that must have been along the lines of reassurance. “Has she said anything to you?”

 

Peko shook her head in a controlled motion. “No. She stared hard at me for a minute, and then turned away muttering to herself as though she didn’t see me.” She paused, observing the frantic state of her old body before looking away. “I’ll have to retrieve my sword from her later.”

 

Hajime nodded, slowly. “Yeah, that would be smart.”

 

“And you, Hajime…? Turns out you weren’t telling a lie after all. How are you coping?”

 

Hajime hesitated, glancing at Fuyuhiko before looking down at his body. It was true that he still felt unlike himself, but in concerning for the others, he’d pushed his own issues aside quite readily. It was somewhat daunting to think he might be getting used to Nagito’s body.

 

“I’m alright. Could be worse, I guess.”

 

“Yeah? Well, if I were switched, Nagito would be last person guy I’d want to experience this shit with. I’d be real careful if I were you.”

 

Hinata looked uncertainly at Fuyuhiko. He didn’t want to admit it, but the gangster had a standing argument. He _was_ Nagito after all.

 

“Yeah. Point taken.”

 

The group shivered with worry, disputes and excitement alike, this continuing until the familiar tone of the morning announcement echoed across the lobby in time with the brightening sun. The congregation was ushered into silence as the usual pitch sounded.

 

_Ding dong, bing bong!_

 

“Ahem! Hope’s Peak Academy’s School Trip Executive Committee has an announcement to make…

 

“Gooooood morning, everyone! Looks like today is gonna be another perfect. tropical day!

 

“Now then, let’s show some enthusiasm and make sure to give it our all today!”

 

Even after the monitor cut and blacked out, everyone remained quiet, considering what should happen next. Akane was the first to speak her thoughts.

 

“Does this mean we can go have breakfast now? I’m like, _really_ hungry…”

 

Before the others could even think about shooting her weird looks, that same irritatingly high-pitched voice from the announcement sounded out, except in much greater proximity and with more than a hint of callous hilarity.

 

“Teenagers are so gluttonous these days, aren’t they? It’s always about the food, isn’t it?”

 

Hajime yelped in shock when Monokuma leapt out from behind him, arms outstretched with that same malevolent grin spread taut across half of his face. The plush bear situated himself in the middle of the group, and all the students subconsciously shrunk back a little. Monokuma, unnerved, raised a fist with a glint of his crimson eye.

 

“But if you could deny those never-ending pits you call your stomachs for the _teeniest_ moment, it would make me _sooooo_ happy! Ah, because after all, I am just _dying_ to know!”

 

The bear clasped his fists together, looking so terribly gleeful and so utterly malicious that the mere sight of him induced despair.

 

“Well? _Well_?! How are you liking my _braaand_ new motive, _huuuuuh_?”


	4. Your problem; I'll solve it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all very much for your patience and for the excellent feedback on the last chapter. It's all very motivational.  
> This chapter intends to introduce the specifics to the motive. Sorry if it's a little boring in terms of action but it's all very important as an explanation.  
> Lastly, the following chapter might arrive a little late as I wanted to focus on writing a three-shot of KomaHina dates. I'll begin uploading the moment I have all three of them done, so look out for 'Permafrost, Paragon and Pelage' when searching in the Komaeda Nagito/Hinata Hajime tag.  
> Now then, do enjoy. xx

A moment of silence passed over the group, the mere mention of the word ‘motive’ infusing their lingering anxiety. Monobear, cruelly expectant, glanced from individual to individual in favour of a long-awaited response. Nagito folded his arms in a slightly disgruntled manner, eventually offering what the plush so desperately sought.

 

“So I was right then. This body-swap is another one of your set-ups.”

 

Monokuma burst to life with an exasperated shrug of his pudgy shoulders, that one comment enough to suffuse him with the zeal of the moment.

 

“Well, _of course_ it is! An idea as brilliant as a body-swap, ripped straight out of fictional literature and _crammed’_ – he ground his fists here – ‘into your lives… _Of course_ this is my doing!”

 

At this declaration, something of a silent grimace overcame the group, to which Monokuma pretended to be innocently offended.

 

“Hey, _heeey_! Why do you all look so grumpy? I put _sooo_ much time and effort into making this motive work, and I don’t even get a single ‘thank you’ for it?? You guys should really learn how to show some appreciation, ya know…”

 

Monokuma’s eccentric ranting dwindled as Kazuichi, upset, fisted his hands in his scarf, baritone voice piquing in volume if only to waver.

 

“N-No one cares about that! Why don’t you just tell us already? When are you going to switch us back?!”

 

The monochrome plush looked pissed to have been shot down so rudely, but he crossed his arms, bouncing on the pads of his feet as he responded at leisure.

 

“When, you say? Well, whenever I feel like it, of course! Or _perhaps_ …” Monobear tilted his head, creepily. “Perhaps I’ll switch you all back when _a body is discovered_ … Oh yes, now that sounds exciting.”

 

“A… Another body…?”

 

Hajime tentatively stepped beside Nagito, his growing confusion directed towards their gleeful assailant.

 

“But… But how?”

 

“Hmmm? What do you mean?”

 

“What I mean is— why a body-swap? What makes _this_ a motive? How is this supposed to—”

 

“Force you into killing each other?” Monobear sneered. “Oh, I dunno… How about you take a guess, _Nagito_?”

 

Nagito opened his mouth to reply with what he honestly thought, but realised Monobear was glaring pointedly at Hajime instead and was not addressing him at all. The other, recognizing this with some added confusion, responded accordingly.

 

“You’re… talking to me? But I’m Hajime Hinata. Didn’t you—”

 

“ _Whaaat_? You’re Hajime Hinata? Oh, _geeeeez_ , I had _noooo_ idea!! In fact…”

 

The plush flashed a diabolic grin.

 

“I don’t have any reason to believe you, so I don’t think I will. After all, nothing seems to have _changed_ about you that would make me _want_ to think that!”

 

Hajime’s voice rose frenetically. “Huh? But you just said—”

 

“I said _nothing_. Simply put, you look like Nagito Komaeda and you sound like Nagito Komaeda, so you’re _definitely_ Nagito Komaeda to me. _Ahhh_ , Nagito, you _really_ should stop telling such _awful_ lies!”

 

At this, the actual Nagito, who was otherwise unfazed, uncertainly raised a hand.

 

“But we have a different manner of speaking, which isn’t that hard to distinguish, so how can you say...”

 

“Look, no one’s asking you, _Hajime_. The fact is there are no witnesses to your self-proclaimed swap, so _I_ , _don’t_ , _believe_ , _you_!”

 

“Yes, but even so…” Chiaki thoughtfully began. “Since there are several swaps that have happened, doesn’t that make those people who were affected witnesses to each other? So then you can afford to trust in what they say… probably.”

 

“Y-ye-yes! She’s right. W-w-we wouldn’t lie about this…”

 

“Yeah, what she said! There’s no way we’d all suddenly pretend to be someone else, let alone the _people we hate most_!”

 

The newly blonde girl understood the indirect insult and shrank within her kimono.

 

Monobear merely sighed at the onslaught of justifications, as though he really didn’t care for any of them in the first place, and clutched at his arms wistfully.

 

“ _Haaa_ , humans are so pitiful, clinging on to worthless ideals such as personality and identity. I suppose I can’t blame you for it… It’s in your nature, right?

 

“But really, if that is the case... If you really do hate being mistaken for another person…

 

“Then wouldn’t you just _kill_ to be back in your own bodies again?”

 

The congregation remained silent for a moment, a slight fear staining the air in consideration of Monokuma’s underhanded objective.

 

“Are you insinuating… that you expect us to slaughter one other as a resolution to our problem?”

 

“ _Well_ , if you’re desperate enough, then _yes_!! Like I mentioned before, I do promise that if a murder is committed, I’ll switch you back to your normal states right away! Otherwise, who knows how long I might attempt to keep you like this…”

 

“Th… They will not kill each other over something as trivial as this! It is ridiculous that you would even consider this circumstance a reason for murder!”

 

A fair majority of students nodded in mutual consent, and Hajime affirmed their stance with words.

 

“Sonia’s right. It doesn’t matter how long this’ll go on, because there’s no way…”

 

“ _There’s noooo way you’ll murder your_ _sweet_ , _sweet_ _friends_ ,” Monobear crowed, mocking and ignorant. “I’ve heard it all before, so say what you will; I don’t care. This is just day one of the switch, but I’m 99.99% certain you guys’ll be absolutely sick of each other in a week’s time. Just you wait…

 

“And now! If we’re all done with the sentimental part of this discussion, I’d like to move on to more _interesting_ topics and explain to the lot of you how this motive _actually_ works!

 

Monokuma’s scarlet eye glinted in the same foreboding way it always did upon bearing terrible news, although his tone remained ridiculously jovial.

 

“The rules to the Killing School Trip are the same as always. You can kill whoever you like however you like whenever you like, and I’m not going to stop you!! _However_ , due to the nature of this motive, there _is_ a _catch_ that applies to the victims alone…”

 

Monokuma paused, as if emphasising and revelling in the following disclosure, teeth gnashing as he spoke.

 

“And the brilliant catch is… if one of the switched individuals happens to be _murdered_ , then the individual inhabiting their old body will _die_ _along with them_!”

 

Several honest gasps sounded, and not even the toughest of the students could suppress the shivers that clawed down their backs in protest of the thought.

 

“Wha… No fucking way. How the fuck does that—”

 

“Just think about it, will ya? If the body is brutally maimed, stabbed, strangled, drowned, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, when I revert you back to your old bodies, the mind and soul of the person who was paired with the murdered individual will not be able to return to their dead body, since it’s no longer suitable for living. Hence, that person will _diiie_!

 

“Likewise, the mind and soul of the murdered individual has already departed, so they cannot return to the body they originally inhabited. Thus, not only will there be a murdered individual on your hands, but also the _dead_ , _empty_ _shell_ of the person they were paired with as well!”

 

“Th… This is just _sick_!”

 

“ _Hehehe_ , and that’s not all! It also means that if you’re a victim and you kill your partner, then inadvertently it’s both a murder _and_ a suicide, and so you’ll die as well. And if you kill yourself when your partner isn’t looking… then your partner will die too, and they won’t even know what hit them! _Gyahahahahaa_!”

 

“So if she’s murdered, then I…”

 

“Nooo… _Nooooo_! Ibuki _can’t_!”

 

“What? _What_?! _But I don’t_ _trust him_!”

 

“Guys, please! Keep it together!”

 

“No! There’s no way we can—”

 

Idly, Hajime tuned out the babbling that noisily followed, his stormy eyes glazing over with distress. The more he heard of this sick motive, the more nauseous it rendered him, until he wished he could just crawl back to his cottage and wait for it all to end. It was easy a promise that no murder would be willingly committed, but to consider the situation in its entirety…

 

Suicide overlapped with murder? Two deaths at once? Indirect slaughter? To die without knowing so? And what if _he_ —

 

Uneasiness piquing, he glanced over at the body he’d previously owned, _his_ posture composed and arms crossed with a receptive yet relaxed expression.

 

The guise of a charlatan, and with swift realisation, Hajime _detested_ him.

 

He detested him, for being so damn neutral throughout all of this, for treating his body like it was his own, for— for the sleepless nights after his betrayal, for having to endure this with him, for his deceptiveness and irritability and because that was _his_ body, HIS body, and he never wanted this, but Nagito, _Nagito_ , _he_ —

 

Feeling his eyes narrow in loathing, Hajime worriedly reverted his gaze back to Monokuma in a difficult attempt to suppress these impulsive feelings of growing bitterness. He was wary of Nagito, he’d always been, but the emotions he felt now were so assaulting, so confusing. He was upset about his state, of course he was, but he couldn’t just blame Nagito for it. Nagito hadn’t done anything… yet. (His neck-hairs bristled at the thought.) And it wasn’t as though he wanted this to happen, right…? It wasn’t his fault.

 

And yet, his mind refused to settle, as though anxiety was the substance that this foreign body thrived on.

 

Hajime was admittedly afraid of those thoughts that must be broiling in Nagito’s head right about now, and newly so, afraid of the thoughts that broiled within his own.

 

“Hajime…? Are you… okay? You’re shivering badly.”

 

He jolted in a crude mixture of shock and fear when a hand was laid on his arm, quickly pulled away upon noting his reaction. He turned his head to see Chiaki standing by him, her expression one of blatant concern. His tongue was dry when he found it.

 

“I…”

 

He stared at her for a long moment, processing her prior question before looking down at his pale, unfamiliar hands in the realisation that they were, in fact, not still. He gripped the sides of his parka in an attempt to hide his trembling.

 

“…I’m fine.”

 

The troubled expression did not leave her face as she retracted her hand to her chest.

 

“If… that’s truly how you feel. Although, if you do need someone to talk to…”

 

A surge of agitation overcame him, and he dropped his head.

 

“Chiaki, I’m _fine_. I said I’m fine.”

 

He hadn’t intended to be rude, but his voice sounded out as a muffled growl, irritated and obviously on edge. He meant to regret the words the moment they left him, but it didn’t even occur to him that he might apologise.

 

What the Hell was wrong with him…?

 

Hajime buried his fingers in his hair, gripping his forehead, and Chiaki quietly, but just as worriedly, backed off. Throughout all this, he did not recognize Nagito’s eyes trained solely upon him, speculating and strange in their intent. The brunet drew his gaze away only in favour of a sudden query; his voice rose in volume, settling the others into silence as he solidly voiced his thoughts.

 

“Monokuma, I have a question.”

 

The plush bear, who had otherwise been revelling in the chaos he’d instigated, sat up a little straighter in newfound attentiveness.

 

“ _Ohh_ , I’m _liiistening_!”

 

Nagito folded his arms, expression dispassionate.

 

“I wanted to know… How exactly is it that you switched us?”

 

“Uh, _how_? Well, I guess it depends on whether you believe in magic or not, _buuut_ —”

 

“No, that’s not it. What I mean is… what part of us did you swap? Is it our minds that have been switched? Our conscious? Our souls…?”

 

Monobear began to nod in understanding, the gesture increasing in pace.

 

“Oh, I see, I see… How interesting that _you_ would ask this question, _Hajime_.”

 

The actual Hajime felt another wave of nausea overwhelm him, which by some miracle he did not act on. Nagito said nothing in response to the jest.

 

“While it’s true that this event is referred to as a body-swap, it might be more accurate to call it a mind-and-soul transfer. Basically, anything that constitutes you, with exception to your physical traits, has been transferred into another body. So your mind, soul, memories, likes, dislikes, personality, fetishes… These are things that have transferred over. However… there _are_ certain abstract characteristics that have likely remained with your old body.

 

“Say, for example, by memory you savoured a particular food whilst in your old body. The new body may have tastebuds that are unaccustomed to or even deterred by that taste, and so that particular food might not taste good at all. I guess what I’m trying to say is if you’re used to something that your old body is familiar with, but your new body has not yet adapted to that something, it may result in a very different experience.

 

“Similarly, in regards to the switching of talents, it really depends on the nature of your talent. For example, Peko and Ibuki have been switched. In this instance, Peko-in-Ibuki’s-body will retain _all_ the knowledge and skills related to sword-fighting that she has collected over the years. However, in practise, Ibuki’s body is not at all accustomed to the sort of fighting that Peko’s talent entails. Of course, despite a significant chance of harming Ibuki’s body, Peko can still attempt to use her talent if she chooses to…”

 

Monokuma seemed to hold Peko’s gaze then, a fist giddily raised to his mouth as though silently wheedling her with the idea, but she merely closed her narrowed eyes to him and didn’t respond.

 

“On the other hand, if Ibuki by some miracle had some sort of knowledge of sword-fighting, practicing it in Peko’s body would likely be far easier for her now than it would be in her old body. After all, Peko’s body has been groomed for sword-training, and so is _perfect_ for pulling off all those fancy manoeuvres! The chances of you people sharing talents is pretty low though, so I wouldn’t get too excited.

 

“Oh, and of course, this also means that Ibuki as she is now will not be able to ‘sing’ unless Peko’s body is capable of singing. Some people are just _terrible_ at it, ya know? Similarly, Ibuki will know all the tips and tricks and chords to playing a guitar, but if Peko’s body isn’t used to this kind of activity, she might just sprain her wrist whilst playing instead. It’s hilarious just imagining it, isn’t it? _Gyahahaa_!”

 

“Uhh, but wait… what about me? My talent is—“

 

“Yes, like I said, this all relies on the _nature_ of your talent. As the Ultimate Mechanic, you, Kazuichi, have a largely intellectually-based talent, and so you’ve probably retained all of your skills. Likewise, Gundam’s knowledge of animal caretaking has also been retained, although it seems those physical bonds he has made with his pets have not carried over…”

 

“A most awful circumstance,” Gundam grieved.

 

“And the same would apply for Mikan. She still knows how to nurse people regardless the body she is in. Hiyoko, however… Well, I suppose it depends on whether Mikan’s a good dancer or not, _huehue_ …”

 

Tears collected in their eyes simultaneously, although both girls remained silent, one awfully meek and the other angry.

 

“Now then! Does that answer your question…?” Monobear’s stare shifted over to Nagito, whom stared back, patient and expectant. “What…? What is it?”

 

Nagito raised a hand, tone crisp and his fingers curling. “My luck. As insignificant as it is—”

 

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that! Well, your so-called ‘talent’ isn’t a physical trait, so it’s safe to assume that it would carry over into the new body.”

 

Nagito’s hand dropped to his side as a tightened fist, lips pressed into a hard line and his expression one of stone. Monokuma continued without fret.

 

“And since Hajime doesn’t remember his talent, I doubt the other person would know what it is either. Does that make sense to you? Yes…? Well I’m getting tired of explaining, so it better. You should all understand the gist of the motive by now. You can figure out the _intricacies_ of it for yourselves. As long as the lot of you obey the rules, I don’t care how you choose to deal with things. All I suggest is that you start planning who you’re going to kill in order to get out of this mess, because _who knows_ how long you’re going to stay like this…”

 

Monokuma took a few steps back, coaxing himself out of the midst of the group, and pumped his fist with conviction. Kazuichi leaned forward, as though wanting to ask a last minute question, but the monochromatic plush allowed him no time, uttering a short maniacal laugh.

 

“ _Gyahahaa_! With that said… See ya, suckers!”

 

And Monobear vanished in his typical manner.

 

The group stood still and silent for a short while, staring nervously about each other or refusing to meet each others’ gazes altogether. Monokuma’s input had solidified their situation, but he had left them off on a note that made them extremely uncertain and wary of each other to the extent that—

 

“There- There was one thing he didn’t clarify,” Fuyuhiko started, his teeth somewhat gritted. “If one of the switched individuals commits a murder, is the murder blamed upon the individual who knowingly committed the murder, or the person whose body the individual is inhabiting?”

 

“I think… it would be the prior option.” Chiaki quietly mused. “Monokuma is usually reasonable when it comes to punishing the murderer. Besides, there’ll be no point to the following trial since the killer knows they did it, and can confirm it to be the person whose body they inhabited. It’s also too easy if they’re allowed to murder without suffering punishment, you know…”

 

“Hey, can we stop talking about murder?” Akane ground out, tossing her head to the side with an aggravated expression. “It’s making me sick just thinking about it…”

 

“Yes, Akane is right,” Sonia affirmed, voice toned down but frantic all the same. “We should not linger on the possibility of death, considering it is not a viable solution in the first place. I… I will not tolerate a repeat of what happened to Byakuya and Teruteru. I will not…”

 

Her last statement was solemnly considered with downcast eyes and morose grimaces, and it was a short while before any of them spoke up again in an attempt to get them moving.

 

“Well, in any case, there’s no point just standing around out here doing nothing,” Nekomaru nodded shortly, directing the group with a finger pointed towards Hotel Mirai. “We should discuss this further at the restaurant. We’ll all be able to think more clearly once our stomachs are full. Come on, let’s get moving!”

 

The Ultimate Coach lumbered off, the prospect of food dragging Akane along with him.

 

Hiyoko sighed, disgustedly flicking her long dark hair behind her. “Ugh, whatever. Let’s just go.” She turned once to give Mikan an extremely venomous look. “And just so you know, _pig barf_ , your body better like sweets, because if I can’t have my candy, then I _swear_ —“

 

Mahiru gently touched her shoulder, starting an irritable Hiyoko in the direction of the diner.

 

“Hey, let’s not make any assumptions yet, okay? Come on.”

 

Hajime stared despondently at the building that everyone had begun to trudge towards, and with little fervour, decided to follow. Nagito, thoughts indistinguishable, as silent as a ghost and with shoulders a tad too rigid, did the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any sort of mischaracterisation on Hajime's part towards the middle of the fic was intended. Those who asked for this have probably already figured it out, but behavioural changes and social ineptness are symptoms of FTD. Also, I do believe the symptoms within these behavioural changes should be specific to an individual's personality; so Hajime would not suddenly start acting like Nagito simply because he has the same disease. His inhibitions are his own.  
> Otherwise, I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you for reading and any feedback is very much appreciated. xx


End file.
